


Afternoon at the Museum

by SenatusConsultum (TheSenator)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: British Museum, F/M, London, Tourism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 21:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSenator/pseuds/SenatusConsultum
Summary: An afternoon at the British Museum with Shaun leads to a revelation he’d prefer to keep in his past.





	Afternoon at the Museum

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this off and on for a looong time... I finally got motivated to finish it after Ubi announced the Discovery Mode for Origins, and I wanted to get it done before the release. So yay for that. I would absolutely love if Shaun did narration for that mode, teaching you all about Ancient Egypt, but this might be as close as I get. ^_^

“Come on, we’re almost there!” Shaun squeezed your hand impatiently and tried to tug you away from the shop. You’d stopped in front of the shop when you’d seen the penny-farthing bicycle by the door, and you were gazing at the hats, jackets, and satchels on display in the window.

“Okay. But we’re coming back here after the museum. Your birthday is coming up—I could get you a new sweater, or one of those leather briefcases, or a tweed jacket.”

“I  _have_  a tweed jacket. I’m wearing it.  _Right now_ ,” he retorted.

You glared playfully at him and smiled. “I know, and you look really hot in it.” Shaun coughed and blushed. You turned her back to the window, slid her hands under his jacket and around to his back, and hugged him. “I just thought you might like another one. A grey one, maybe? It was just a suggestion.”

Shaun rested his hands on your hips. He was still blushing. “Well… since you like it so much…  _maybe_ …”

You kissed him on the cheek. “You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it. Let’s go—I’m excited about seeing the museum with you.”

Shaun’s eyes lit up. He took you by the hand again and started walking down the street toward a gate. You listened intently as Shaun excitedly told you about the museum.

“The main part of the building was completed in 1852. It was designed by Sir Robert Smike in the Greek Revival style. Greek Revival had regained popularity in the mid-Eighteenth Century…”

Shaun trailed off as he led you through the opening in the fence. You stopped, gazing at the grand entrance: a staircase leading up to the tall, white columns, which were topped with a triangular pediment. You glanced at Shaun, who was beaming as he looked up at the building; you couldn’t hold back a small smile.

“Hey,” you nudged his arm. “What are the statues up there?”

“That’s the pediment,” he said matter-of-factly. “The statues reflect the purpose of the building. Sometimes they tell a story.”

“Like the Parthenon—it was a temple for Athena, so its pediments showed her birth and the naming of Athens,” you said.

“Exactly,” Shaun said, impressed. “The statues here reflect the ‘Progress of Civilization,’ because the museum houses artifacts from thousands of years of civilization.”

You smiled. Shaun had been showing you around London—taking you to his favorite pubs; showing you little parks only a true Londoner would know about; and, of course, telling you the histories of various landmarks. He was more animated than he’d ever been before; he was clearly having a blast, sliding easily into Professor Hastings Mode with someone who actually enjoyed listening to him. Today, though, you were at one of Shaun’s favorite places in the world—a place he’d grown up visiting, and which fostered his love of history.

The British Museum.

You ascended the staircase, squeezing past parents wrangling their children, young couples snapping selfies, and docents welcoming visitors. The two of you crossed the threshold into a bustling hallway and past an employee who shot a suspicious glance at Shaun as they made their way toward the atrium. You turned back quickly to get a look at the employee, but he was gone.

“Did you see that guy?” you asked. “It looked like he recognized you, and he wasn’t happy about it.”

Shaun shrugged. “Looked like he was thinking about something to me. Probably trying to figure out where his tour group was.” He leaned in and smirked playfully, his hand sliding up to your cheek. “Not  _everyone_  is out to kill us, [Y/N].” He gave you a peck on the lips, and turned back quickly, guiding you to the huge, brightly-lit atrium.

You smiled as you marveled at the atrium, though still suspected Shaun wasn’t telling her the truth. You eyed him warily as you slipped your hand into his. His eyebrows had furrowed slightly, making him look a little distracted—and worried. You decided not to press the matter; if he thought they were in danger, he’d say so. You squeezed his hand to get his attention.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked. “Remember, it’s my first time here.”

“I thought we’d start in the Egyptian galleries and make our way toward the Parthenon marbles. How’s that?”

“Sounds perfect. Lead the way.”

Shaun guided you to the left side of the atrium, passing a round desk stocked with guidebooks, souvenirs, and bottled water.

“Shaun Hastings, is that you?” A voice rang out from behind the desk, and they turned around.

“Helen! How are you?” Shaun beamed at the woman behind the desk as he walked to her at a brisk pace. Helen was tall and slender, wearing a crisp blue button-down shirt and a strand of pearls. Faint lines at the corners of her eyes revealed that she’d spent a lot of time smiling—a conclusion supported by the warm smile she gave Shaun as you both reached the desk.

“Wonderful. And you? I haven’t seen you in, what, six or seven years?”

“Something like that,” he replied. He turned to you. “Helen was one of my closest friends when I worked here during university. She helped me get settled.”

Helen laughed. “I don’t know that you ever  _really_  got settled, Shaun. You were always causing trouble.”

Shaun rolled his eyes. “Having a healthy level of skepticism isn’t trouble-making,” he protested half-heartedly.

“ _Sure_ , Shaun.” She turned to you and held out her hand. “I’m Helen, by the way.”

You smiled and shook her hand. “I’m [Y/N]. It’s so nice to meet you!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you,” Shaun jumped in. “Helen, this is my girlfriend. We met a couple of years ago at a work function in Paris.”

Helen beamed at you both. “Paris? That sounds romantic!”

“It was, in its own way,” you responded. Shaun smiled nervously, and you grinned and squeezed his hand. It was true—you  _had_  met in Paris when you were both on assignment. What Helen didn’t need to know, though, was that this particular work function involved explosives.

Helen turned and noticed her co-worker glancing at her impatiently. “You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime. I should get back to my station, though. Do stop and say goodbye before you go!”

Shaun nodded.

“And it was nice to meet you, Y/N,” Helen continued. “I’m glad Shaun has someone to keep an eye on him.”

You smiled. “Thanks… we do a good job of looking out for each other.”

“See you, Helen,” Shaun said, and you turned to head back toward a large façade of columns that stretched to the ceiling.

You waited until they were out of Helen’s earshot, and elbowed him gently in the ribs. “You didn't tell me that you  _worked_  here.”

“It was only for a few months,” Shaun demurred. “My research started occupying most of my time, and I had to leave. Ah, here we are.”

You rounded a corner, and the large, columned entrance to the gallery came into view. Two stone heads sat on either side of a small door.

“Wow…” you whispered.

Shaun glanced down at her and smirked. “Oh, this is nothing. Are you ready to elbow your way through the mob to see the Rosetta Stone? “

I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” you laughed, and you walked into the gallery with Shaun a step ahead of you.

The relative serenity of the atrium was overcome with the excited buzzing of visitors as they crowded around a large case, snapping photos with their phones. You could barely make out the top point of the item within, even as you stood on you toes to see more. You spotted an open spot in the crowd and stepped into it, slowly making your way toward the front of the case. Shaun bumped up against you and wrap his arms around her waist.

“Well,” he breathed into her ear, “what do you think?”

“It’s bigger than I imagined,” you said as you snapped some photos. She stared at the inscriptions on the stone, marveling at the precise, straight lines of text that covered the stone. You’d seen much older artifacts—including an Apple of Eden—but there was something about the Rosetta Stone that astounded you. It almost didn’t seem real, somehow; it was as though your brain couldn’t differentiate it from the photos you’d seen in textbooks as a child. You were still gazing at it in awe when someone caught your attention through the case.

It was the man from earlier—the one who had glared at Shaun when they came in—and he was looking right at them. You furrowed her brow and stepped out of Shaun’s grasp to walk around the case. By the time you made it through the crowd to the other side, the man had gone.

“What is it?” Shaun asked.

“It was that guy. The one who was looking at you when we walked in,” you said, craning your head around the crowd of people next to her to try to find him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking around warily.

“Yeah. I don’t see him though, do you?”

“No,” Shaun replied uneasily. “Let’s move on.”

The two of you roamed through the Egyptian gallery, stopping to look at the busts, statues, and mummies on display and keeping a lookout for the man from earlier. You took a deep breath and tried to calm down—the gallery was crowded, and you reckoned that if he were a Templar agent, you’d be relatively safe for now. He wouldn’t try anything in such a busy space full of families. If he confronted you and Shaun, the two of you could handle him, and Shaun probably knew some back ways out of the museum if you needed to escape.

“Oh! I’ve never seen this on display before…” Shaun’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you made your way toward the pedestal he was standing next to. On it was a small brick, labeled as a “Fragment of limestone casing-block from the Pyramid of Khufu.”

“Khufu….?” Your voice trailed off.

“Giza. The Pyramid of Giza,” Shaun clarified.

“Ah.”

Your eyes narrowed as you observed the brick. Something about it seemed off, somehow—as though it was older than it was supposed to be. And there appeared to be some odd symbols etched into it….

“ _You,_  again. What is your problem, exactly?” Shaun spat, snapping your attention away from the symbols and onto  _him,_  the employee from earlier.

Up close, he was a little shorter than Shaun, but physically stronger—his crossed arms showed off his muscular forearms and pulled the fabric of his sleeves taut against his biceps. His shoulders were broad, and he took up most of the doorway he was standing in, blocking the closest exit to the gallery.

Shaun had moved between you and the man, allowing you to glance quickly around you and realize that the three of you were alone at the end of the gallery. You put your hands in your jacket pocket and closed your fingers around a small smoke bomb, just in case.

He was glaring at both of you, his dark brows furrowed together in contempt.

“Don’t you remember me?” he taunted.

Shaun raised an eyebrow and looked at him quizzically. You could see his shoulders relaxing slightly, but you kept your guard up.

“I remember  _you_ , Hastings,” the man continued. “You thought you were hot shit because you were an  _assistant professor._  Always arguing with the other docents.”

“I didn’t argue with  _all_  of them,” Shaun replied indignantly.

The man was focusing all his attention on Shaun, so you slowly moved to create an opening between the two of you.

“It got you fired, didn’t it?” Shaun’s shoulders sagged slightly, and the man went on smugly. “Yeah… sure did. You picked the wrong fight, and it got you dismissed.”

“Why are you following us, exactly?” Shaun said testily.

The man shrugged. “Just wanted to see what you were up to. Hadn’t seen you in a while, Hastings—I thought you’d be ashamed to show your face after what happened.”

“Yes. Well. I’ve been busy.” Shaun looked back at you. “Clearly.”

You stifled a laugh and waggled an eyebrow at him. The man suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

Shaun turned back to him. “Right. Okay, Colin, if all you wanted to do was gawk at me, we’ll be on our way. Good-bye.” He took your hand and led you away from the man before he realized Shaun had recognized him.

You nudged Shaun in the shoulder. “Wait.. you knew him all along?”

“Not the  _whole_  time. I figured it out when he was talking about when I was dismissed…” Shaun trailed off.

“Yeah, what happened? Why did he act like it was such a big deal?”

He shifted uncomfortably and didn’t look at you when he responded. “I… uh… had a heated argument with a wealthy patron. Well… a patron’s son.”

You blinked. “A patron’s  _son_? Like, an adult son, or a child?”

“He was seven,” Shaun replied ruefully. “But in my defense, he was  _wrong_  about mummification! And how could I have known that he’d cry like that?”

“He  _cried?!_ ” You stopped in your tracks turned, forcing Shaun to look at you. “Shaun, you made a seven year old cry? Oh, honey.” You stroked his cheek and laughed. Shaun smiled slightly, in spite of himself.

“I learned my lesson didn’t I? I got fired, after all.”

You had seen Shaun get in so many pedantic arguments that you knew that he hadn’t, in fact, learned his lesson, but you decided not to press the matter. You simply sighed, took his hand again and led him out of the gallery.

“Hey, we haven’t been to Charlotte Street yet, have we?” Shaun asked, changing the subject. “There’s a great restaurant there… you hungry?”

“Sure, Shaun. But don’t think that you’re getting out of telling me about how you made that kid cry,” you teased.

Shaun rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

He slid an arm around your waist as you walked out of the museum, stealing a kiss on the steps before leading you through the gate.


End file.
